


Less Can Be More

by in_a_blog_in_the_ground



Series: One-Shots [10]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: kid!dwarves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:17:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2088477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_a_blog_in_the_ground/pseuds/in_a_blog_in_the_ground
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you just have to improvise</p>
            </blockquote>





	Less Can Be More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bofur1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/gifts).



> Prompt from Bofur1:
> 
> “You know that part where Bard brings out the "weapons" and everyone's complaining? Balin says, "Thorin, why don't we take what's on offer and go? I've made do with less and so have you!" So I want a funny story about the time they made do with less :P”
> 
> -A note on ages (our approx.)- Dis: 4-ish; Frerin: 8 or 9-ish; Balin, Dwalin, Thorin: 13-16-ish.

Balin tried to concentrate on his studies as the sounds of his young cousins bickering floated through the wall of the next room, his turn today for babysitting duty.

“Balin, Dís is pulling on my braid again! I just got it right!”

“Yes, dear,” Balin muttered distractedly as he focused on the papers in front of him.

“Balin, Balin! Can we go ride the ponies?”

“Yes, dear…”

“Frerin, Frerin, didja hear that? Balin says we can go ride the ponies!”

“Alright, Dís, alright! Just stop pulling on my braids! Let’s go!”

“Yes, de- No, wait!” Abandoning his work, Balin bolted for the front entrance of the house, vaulting over furniture with surprising dexterity for a Dwarf as he raced to beat the children to the door, skidding around the final corner just as Frerin and Dís were pulling it open.

The Prince and Princess squeaked with surprise as Balin suddenly threw himself against the portal, slamming it shut. Dís looked up into the panting face of their cousin, a pout forming on hers.

“But- but you just said-!”

“Ah, uh, Ah meant later, Dís,” Catching his breath, Balin gently shooed his young cousins back to their room, full of toys and wooden weaponry.

With limited space, Frerin and Dís still needed to share a room, their beds pushed to opposite walls, with the space in between littered with their entertainments.

Dís had arranged her dolls in a battle formation, one that Balin recognized from his studies. He raised his eyebrows in appreciation of her canniness, surprising in one still so young. Her small practice sword, one of Thorin’s that he had outgrown, lay crossed on top of a much battered wooden buckler on her bed.

Frerin, a bit older, was finding his niche lay in more academic pursuits. Papers and quills scattered the low desk made for him by his cousins Dwalin and Gloin. Nevertheless, he had his own set of practice weaponry leaning neatly against the wall. Instead of carrying a shield, he preferred twin swords.

Pouting, Dís flopped on her bed, pulling the buckler over herself like a blanket. “Wanna go riding…”

“Ah know dear, Ah know,” Balin sat down gently next to her, “But you know the ponies in the stables are fer the guards, dinnae? We cannae take them out in case there’s an emergency and the guards need tae get somewhere in a hurry.”

“I know,” Dís turned over onto her stomach under the shied. After a moment, she sniffed, and in a small, sad voice muffled by the sheets whispered, “I miss my Emerald…”

“Oh…darling,” Balin lifted the shield and pulled Dís into his arms, holding her tightly and rubbing her back as she cried. Even Frerin looked abashed and came over, patting his sister’s knee gently.

During the flight from Erebor only a few years past, much had had to be left behind in the chaos. With a shudder, Balin recalled dashing past the stables, hearing the ponies scream as rubble and fire blocked their escape. There was nothing anyone could have done.

“Tell you what,” Balin put on a cheerful tone, “Ah heard there’s a new toymaker come tae town, let’s go see what they have!”

Dís sniffled a final time and nodded as her brother smiled encouragingly up at her. They left with her holding Balin and Frerin’s hands, excitedly chatting away.

\--

“Right! Ev’ryone put yer weapons up, an’ get out of here!” Fundin roared as practice concluded for the day.

Catching up with Dwalin at the weapons rack, Thorin prepared for their departure, throwing his cousin his bag.

Dwalin grunted a thanks, wiping his face on a towel.

The cousins waited for Fundin to lock up the armory, going back over some new techniques, which had dissolved into simple roughhousing by the time the grizzled Captain of the Guard caught up with them. Stifling a chuckle, Fundin separated the boys and they set out for home.

Their path took them through the market square, where the setting sun illuminated the peaceful scene of vendors packing up their wares.

“Thorin!”

The Prince turned around just in time to catch his little sister launching herself through the air at him.

“Oof! Hullo, scamp,” Thorin said fondly. “What have you got there?”

Clutched in Dís’s hand was a new ragdoll pony, in patchwork colors and large smooth buttons for eyes. Balin caught back up with her then, holding Frerin’s hand. Slung over the boy’s shoulder was a new leather satchel, the perfect size for carrying his notebooks and quills. Greeting everyone, Balin and Frerin told them about their impromptu market day while Dís waved shyly over Thorin’s shoulder at Dwalin, giggling when he started making silly faces at her. Suddenly she gave an almighty yawn, and buried her face into Thorin’s hair in embarrassment. Dwalin had to stifle a bark of laughter so she wouldn’t feel worse.

“Ah, she’s had a long day.” Noticing, Balin came over and kindly patted Dís’s dark curls. Then, his face lit up into what, on anyone else’s face, could only be called a mischievous grin. “Wait…say, Dís? Didn’t ye say ye wanted tae ride the ponies? Well, here you go!” With that, he plucked Dís from Thorin’s arms and swung her up so she was sitting on his shoulders.

Despite working hard all day, muscles sore from combat training, Thorin immediately got the gist after only a brief moment of surprise, and reared up, kicking the air and sputtering pony neighs as he galloped down the street, his precious baby sister shrieking in delight.

Frerin only had a moment to look downcast, feeling he was too big to request such play now (though he wasn’t), before Dwalin swung him up on his own shoulders and went charging after, challenging Thorin to a race, which then immediately ensued, the children both goading their ‘ponies’ on, lost in the fun.

Left quite far behind now, Balin trotted after, but was brought up short by a deep chuckle from behind.

“Ah, it’s good they’re having fun,” Fundin rumbled, a small smile just seen in his thick beard. He clapped his eldest son lightly on the back as he watched Dwalin and the Heirs cavort, children after all, despite how fast they were forced to grow up. Though Thrain was only a distant cousin, their families were close as, and Fundin mourned the lost years their children should have had, playing carefree like this all the time. He blinked hard, and looked down to see Balin smiling up at him, wise beyond his years.

“Sometimes less can be more, Da,” Balin said, giving his father’s hand a quick squeeze, “making do isn’t all bad.”

Watching little Dís laugh as her brothers and cousin chased her, Fundin couldn’t agree more.

**Author's Note:**

> Since I don't know if I'll ever flesh this out with a story of its own, here's a little background on how I picture their situation, if you're interested. 
> 
> So, it's been a little while after they've fled from Erebor, and the Dwarves are set up in Ered Luin in their own town, not necessarily mixing in with the native Ered Luin clans yet, so there's a little bit different feel to how things are run. Thrain and his family are in their own house, Fundin and his family are close by, as well as Gloin and his. There's a school for young dwarves where combat training at the guard academy is part of their education once they get about our equivalent of 10 or so, and lasts usually until they can find a vocation, or they decide to stay on. Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin switch off between them attending training so one of them babysits Dis and Frerin after regular school everyday. Oin is old enough to train, but leaves early for vocational training with a local herbalist, and Gloin is old enough to take care of himself to go home after school, but not really old enough to babysit his little cousins, so that's why they're not featured in this particular story. All of their parents are all pretty high up and are kept busy with trying to keep things in their new town functioning, so the kids are pretty much left to take care of each other during the day. A little surprisingly, Fundin probably sees the most of his kids since he runs the training, and at least one of them is there every day. 
> 
> Thanks for reading this if you did :P Feel free to let me know what think, or if you have any other thoughts :)


End file.
